How To Hug An Enemie
by PahShones
Summary: Draco is devasted by everything he had to go through, for the Lord. Harry is scared. Dumbledore has been hiding from him, and, automatically, hiding everything from him. With twisted minds, and even more twisted hearts, nothing right can come from a meeting between these two disturbed young men.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this. Thanks.

**Warnings:** Slash, D/H, Top!Draco, Swear words.

**How To Hug an Enemie**

Katy has awaken. She's fine.

But if she has ever been the contrary way, it's my fault.

The realization hits me stronger than I thought it would.

And there is Potter.

Saint Potter.

He must be asking her how she's doing.

If he had not turned around to look at me, with those green eyes that... _Well_, if he hadn't turned around, it's possible that he would hug her soon.

I'm the one who needs a hug right now.

I'm the one who's giving everything in order to save my mom's life.

And my father's.

All of that, that stupid and senseless _need _hit me.

For some unknown reason, I want to be hold. I want someone to sit me in their lap and comfort me.

If there's something I never needed was someone who cared.

But now, I simply can't stand there, facing the girl I almost killed, and god damned Potter.

I leave Great Hall, a ball of shame stuck in my throat, and I loosen my tie during the way to the second floor.

I'm not that person. I'm not.

I am selfish, stingy, and even spoiled.

But I'm not a murderer.

God damn the Dark Lord.

He's the murderer. Why do I have to take the fault for _his_ mistakes?

Fuck, _fuck_.

I get in Myrtle's bathroom, and thank Merlin for her existence, even though she's not here right now, which is just another reason to thank.

The tears and sobs start to run from my body before I can contain myself.

I feel weak. It's like I'm just another piece in _his_ game.

He's going to take me down the moment he sees a chance.

He doesn't need anybody.

But I do.

Now I miss Myrtle.

Even though she can be kind of annoying sometimes, at least she's some company.

She understands what it is to feel as if you're going to spend eternity moaning.

I rip my shirt off, because the suffocating feeling is too much.

It's hard to even breath.

I lean on the sink, and let the water start to run.

Before I do anything, my eyes attach to the reflex in the mirror.

Who the fuck is this person?

Because the grey dead eyes don't seem to be mine.

The hair is not the same as it was. _Disrepair_ is the word that travels my mind as I look at myself.

When you have to plan murders, you can't waste your time with shampoo.

I wash my face, because I feel dirty.

Maculated by darkness.

Oh, how deep is Draco Malfoy.

It's impossible not to cry louder, because I know this kind of dirt don't ever goes down the drain.

And then Potter's voice breaks the silence, which, before, was only unsettled by my sobs and the water running from the faucet.

"I know what you did, Malfoy," he says, and the accusation almost shocks me. "It was you, wasn't it?"

_Yes, it was me_, I want to scream. But I am way too weak, and now he knows.

Now he knows I hid in bathrooms to cry like a little girl.

I turn myself in order to look at him.

He's maculating my dirty sanctuary with his purity.

He's fading my darkness with his stupid light.

I can't contain myself. The rage takes over my sense, commanding my members, and hexing him. _Cursing him._

And it's obvious he avoids it, and curses me back.

A fight begins.

A little battle, in between of this huge war.

We're hiding.

No one hits no one.

Until, at a certain moment, we stare at each other for a nanosecond, and he screams a hex I've never heard before.

Whatever it is, that _thing_ dilacerates me. I can feel the cuts taking form on my skin.

The urge to cry is back when my body hits the ground.

Not even Potter knows what the fuck did he do, I can see it in his eyes, when he stares at me.

I feel my blood running away from me.

I can picture the mess in the bathroom, water everywhere.

I want to die. For just a second, I allow myself to imagine the peace it would be.

But there's Saint Harry Potter, again.

He fixes the sink where the water is running from, and we watch it go down the drain for a moment.

But then the weakness takes over me.

I imagine how much life I have left, and I'm glad to think that maybe it's little.

I hear spells being mumbled under someone's breath, but it seems very far away. Until my cuts are healed.

What is left of my clothes has been ripped away, except for the white boxer I'd put on this morning.

Blood stops running, and life starts to run _back_.

And I feel the urge to hit the gryffindor by my side for that.

What a twat.

Who asked him to save me?

"Let me die," I say, knowing that I'm allowed to be dramatic in this moment, because my voice is just a lint of sound that crawls from my throat.

"No!," he answers, way too loud.

I hear the door slamming, and being locked up, but can't bring myself to take my eyes from the old dirty ceiling.

Finally, I look at Potter when he's close enough, forcing my eyes to focus again.

His face is near me, and I can feel the heat coming from his body. I want to ask for that hug. _Beg for it._

Because I still feel broken, dilacerated.

The cuts that his curse caused me are _nothing_ when compared to how I felt when I walked in this bathroom.

Potter lifts me by holding my armpits, and carries me to the closest wall, leaning my back there.

I still breath harshly, I notice, way too high because of the blood loss.

Potter sits beside me, and I feel vulnerable.

_He lifted me up so easily._

I'm so thin and weak as I feel emotionally.

I'm not being able to force myself to eat properly for weeks, but he's been very well fed, in the company of that mud blood Granger.

Everybody whisper. _They must be together_.

I wonder why does that seems to bother me, but I feel like Loony Lovegood right now.

And then, there comes my answer, when he rips his shirt off and puts it over my shoulders, but I don't even dare to think of it for now.

He's crying too, now. Very, _very_, quietly, but I see the tears, and those scream wildly.

Perhaps he feels just like me. _A murderer._

_It bothers me that he's with Granger because I am the one who needs a strong company right now._

Done. There it is. I've just admitted it to myself: I need someone to hug me, even _cuddle_ with me, and tell me it's ok. It's alright.

Everybody has someone to take good care of them, but I've been alone for _so long_.

I'm shaking because of the cold, and realizing that makes me feel ridiculous.

"I... I guess I'm so sorry, Malfoy."

"You _guess_, Potter?" I wonder, hurt leaking from my voice without my consent.

"I'm sure. But I don't know why," he sighs heavily. "You did almost kill Katy."

"You're sorry because you don't wanna be a murderer," I answer, forcing my indifference. "Neither do I, believe it or not." My voice breaks during the last sentence. I feel the urge to cry again.

"No, Malfoy. Maybe I'm sorry... Just because I am."

He looks at me. His eyes are asking if it makes any sense, and I hope mine answer that no, it doesn't, but it doesn't matters either.

"I'm cold, Potter, you useless piece of nothing. You hurt me, and then leave me like that?" I try to look away. There's this _feel_ around us that is almost friendly, and I don't want that to last. He'll hate me when I kill Dumbledore anyway.

"Your clothes are soaking wet, and covered in blood," he says, and I wonder if that's shame what I hear in his voice.

"Yours are not so different, but it's not you who's almost naked," I speak, looking in this eyes.

He rips his shirt off.

"Happy?" _Is Potter __**blushing**__, of all things?_

I feel the urge to say yes, just so he blushes again.

What a stupid twat I am.

I just shut the fuck up, but I feel a rebel as I think "_don't they say silence implies consent_".

I hope he gets it. Or not. _Whatever._

"Can't you dry our clothes? Are we wizard or not?" the words scape my mouth when the silence becomes awkward.

"I don't know how. Hermione would know, but..."

"Are you sure you want to bring Granger up right now?"

He stares at me.

_And what does __**that **__means, Draco, you fucking wanker?_ I don't know.

I have no fucking clue, and I'm afraid to discover.

"I don't want to leave." He says after a while.

"Why not?"

"World is ending out there," he breaths out, sounding childish and scared. "Everybody is dying. I have no bloody family. Who knows whos gonna be the next?"

_I know. _I know but I just shut it.

I feel that conversation is getting close to an end, because when you begin to think of what happens when you do something, it's because you're close to do it.

"I don't want you to leave either," my mouth says, and I don't know how does my body dares to turn against me in such a way.

His eyebrows are high in surprise, and I sigh.

Thankfully, I'm not the one of the kind who blushes.

Coming to think of it, I guess it's a characteristic of the most sensible.

"When I got in this bathroom, all I wanted was company. And it doesn't matters if it's yours. I just need some moments. My lungs are still missing some air." I say, and to draw attention from my confession, I look at him accusingly. Anyway, it's entirely his fault if there's air missing in my lungs. Maybe not _entirely_. But a good slice of it, for sure.

He looks at me back, and for a moment his eyes are blank.

I watch his face.

It's as perfect as aways, as mine is probably a mess, thanks to him.

His mouth is half opened, and I feel the urge to touch it.

Not kiss it.

No. Just... Touch it.

Does that makes any sense?

_No._

I think I've lost way too many blood. I'm delusional.

My hand snaps up, directing to his lips, but I let it fall, because he may decide to hex me again, and I have no strength left for one more assault.

But, as it happens, it falls on his lap.

His gaze goes from my eyes to my hand, which is helpless over his thigh.

Maybe I should run, I realize, because he hates me, and can kill me any moment now.

But he bites his lower lip.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" despite the swear word, his voice is calm, almost sweet.

"I… I honestly have no idea."

_What a brilliant answer, Draco. __**Brilliant.**_

He blinks.

_Naive Potter._

Sometimes, I notice, I call him by his last name so much, that I forget that he does have a first name.

_Harry._ I taste the word in my mind.

His questioning look makes me realize I'd said it out loud.

It's unlikely we'll have another moment like this any other day in our lives, so I decide to take the most from it, but the surprised look he's still shooting at me makes me want to cry again.

_What a stupid twat I am_, I think again.

I should have stayed quiet.

But my hand is still on his thigh.

And _his_ hand is now over it.

It's still possible to see marks from last year.

_I must not tell lies._

Neither should I, but what is life without some bullshit?

"Maybe I should go," I say, and it's a huge lie.

I want to stay. For some reason, I want to stay here with Harry Potter.

"Maybe we both should," he agrees, and snaps his hand away as if he'd been electrified.

"Or, perhaps, neither of us should." My hand squeezes his thigh as I talk.

What the _hell_ am I doing?

He smiles. A smile so close to the one I used to smile when there _were _ any reason to do so, that it hurts.

"What the hell are you doing, _Draco_," he asks again, spitting my name as if it was a bug that had climbed into his mouth, and he wanted to get rid of it.

"I tell you when I know." My hand goes up.

What am I doing again?

I feel the urge to run. Maybe I've gone way too far.

But I realize that I no longer care.

I've broken more important rules than to snog Harry Potter.

_Like almost killing Katherine Bell._

I snap my hand away, putting it on my neck.

Shame is back.

I feel a god damned tear rolling down my face.

_What a great cunt is Draco Malfoy._

Potter puts one finger over my tear.

Careful, Harry. You may catch some kind of disease.

Maybe I'm poisonous.

"I don't know what we're doing, Malfoy. I have no Idea of what game we're playing, but I don't really care. I just… I'd like to play with you for a while. Tomorrow we can play hexing each other again. Today I have no strength for this. Not anymore." He says, and his mouth is way too close to my ear.

His lips are thin as always when they touch it, and I wonder when I'd notice it.

Not it matters, but some minutes ago, it didn't.

I have no time to be kind.

One of us might change our minds, and for some reason I feel like I _must_ do this.

I look at him, feeling like I'm setting fire to something.

_I does not matters._

Nothing matters, because I'm ripping off his trousers.

For some reason, in some alternative universe, Harry Potter and I are locked up in a bathroom, and I'm ripping off his trousers.

He purrs when I hover my hands on his thighs now naked, and I like the sound so much that I wonder if I could ever feel sorry about this.

I'm over him, and my cock stiffens.

I'd never feel this for a bloke before.

But it makes so many sense right now, when my hands touch his chest, my mouth biting the bottom of his stomach.

He's even harder than me, and I feel him shivering bellow me when I touch the groin in his boxer.

"Tell me you already have had sex, Potter," I say, mocking him. I know the answer.

"Malfoy," he answers, dry, reprehensive, and I laugh.

I pictured him in a dark room, over that muggle Granger.

Almost began to laugh harder. Potter is a virgin, but _I_ am changing it.

He takes off my boxers, and I observe approvingly, forgetting the mockery for a second.

"You know, a lot of girls would like to be in your place."

"_Draco_", it still seems hurtfull for him to say my name. "If you don't shut the fuck up…" He squeezes my cock and I can't help but groan.

I laugh at him again.

"Why don't _you_ shut me up, Potter? After all, I'm corrupting you. You may make me whatever you want. You'll only have me for today.

He laughs.

"As if I'd ever want you again."

That almost hurts.

But, now that that depressive feeling has gone, replaced by our little game, nothing really hurts.

I pull off his boxers in one move, and pretend to be surprised by his height.

_It's not that much of an act._

It really _is_ big.

"Bigger than I expected, Potter."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"Nope. That's what you're here for."

That catches him by surprise, but it's too late for him to think about it, now that we're curled over each other on the bathroom floor.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, when he stopped moving.

"I want you to put your clothes on. I wanna be dressed. I don't know what we are doing here. But it's wrong."

And maybe I was wrong, after all.

_Maybe some things are still able to hurt._

"It's too late for that," I say harshly. "What do you want me to do, Potter? Something that doesn't implies getting out of here. Because I don't wanna go, now that we are already started."

"So finish it off, so we can leave."

He refuses to face me, and his tone is beginning to break the spell.

I can give up any moment now, but there's still that fucking need in my guts.

"Potter…" it seems very wrong to call him by his last name. I decide to play dirty. He is the one who cares about feelings and all that bullshit, right? "Harry," his name escapes my lips in a hoarse whisper, and he looks at me looking surprised. "Harry. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

He doesn't say a word.

Potter bites his lower lip again, seeming to be thinking about it.

That urge to touch his lips is back. But this time, I want to touch his lips with mine.

I don't hesitate.

I bring my head close to his, and put our lips together.

He doesn't moves, even when I start to _really_ kiss him. He just opens his mouth and lets me put my tongue in it.

I explore him eagerly. _It feels so damn good._

When my tongue touches his, Potter finally seem to wake up, and now he kisses me back.

I'm all over him, my hands on the ground, giving me support, and my dick between his legs. His own erection is between our stomachs, nobly touching a spot close to his belly button.

Harry lets his hands on the floor for some times, but then he doesn't seem to be able to help himself, and the snap to my hair, grasping at it with all his strength.

"I already know what I want you to do, Malfoy," he says, finishing our kiss way too early. "I think you know it too."

I smile and, with a leg at each side of his body, I trace a way of bites and hard sucks until I reach his cock.

My gaze goes to his face, waiting for his approval, _just to make sure_.

He just moans, and pulls my hair in the right direction.

I smile, starting to lick and suck on him.

I can hear his purr again, and it drives me crazy. Potter twitches beneath me, sometimes trusting in my mouth when I slow down.

My hands are on the bottom of his shaft, touching him and playing with his balls.

He pulls my hair harder once more, before coming all over my chest, because I'd taken my mouth away just in time.

He bites his lip so hard in order not to scream that he's now bleeding, and he projects it forward.

I crawl over him, and suck his lip in my mouth, feeling the taste of his blood.

That thing of "being wrong" is gone, now that I gave him spread on my chest.

"Potter. Turn around," it's almost an order, but he obeys.

Since when does Potter have such a nice arse? I don't know. It doesn't matter.

I squeeze it, and he groans.

I'm on my knees, and so is him, but he has also his hands on the floor.

My hands can't leave his arse cheeks.

My cock stiffens, as if it was asking for me to push it inside of him.

His short hair, his nape showing off.

I want to trust inside of him so bad that I'm almost losing my mind.

"It's gonna hurt, Harry," I say, my voice soft.

"You've already started it, Malfoy."

I shake my head, altough I know he can't see it. Yes. I've started.

And finishing is a necessity.

I push inside him all at once, and he holds a cry.

"I'm sure you've been through worse, Potter," I try to mock him, but his walls are so damn tight around my prick... I wait for him to relax befor I start moving.

Now he's also only on his knees, his back glued to my chest, my hands holding him on place by his waist line.

I trust in him again.

It's so good to hear his loud moan.

Sometimes I almost take myself entirely off, only to go back in harder, in order to hear him purring.

But now that the pain is gone, I can tell he's also hard.

He put his hand around his cock, but I replace it with mine.

I keep trusting in him, and move my hand, trying to keep some kind of balance, and when he comes, walls pressing me, his rusty yells is followed by my own, and we both fall to the ground.

My come fills him, and all I can expect is that he's as please as I am right now.

I keep touching him, our bodies still linked, his sensible member stiffening again, and he comes once more, all over my hand, screaming.

He finally gets away from him, and turns around, facing me.

He's so blushed that I can't help but smile cockly.

I put my hand in my lips, feeling his taste.

I lick my lips, provocking him.

He kisses me, pulling my hair, critizing my actions quietly.

"Everything feels so bloody right…" He mumbles, and holds me.

_My hug._ That's what I wanted all the way long.

It's weird and awkward.

But this is my embrace.

"But it's wrong," he says, and tries to pull back.

"Potter!" I say, putting my arms around him, in order no to let him move. "The reason for all of this was this god damned hug, so, please, don't fucking move. Doesn't matters how wrong it may be."

It's done. Now it is way too late.

He doesn't say a word. Doesn't smiles, or even blinks.

Potter just stands there. His arms arounde me, and I start crying all over again.

Because I've done everything wrong, and I'll keep making these sames mistakes because I have to.

When we get up, we'll have to say "neve tell anybody" and act akwardly.

Hating each other will feel so weird for now on, because we loved each other for the breafest of times.

But I don't want to. Loving is caring, and the only person who I can care about, now and ever, is my mom.

I squeeze my arms around him, thightning the embrace.

_Everything is so wrong. _Not only Harry and I, being together, but the whole world. _Every piece of life.._

Everything is out of place, messed up by the Dark Lord.

But it doesn't matters.

I'll just hug Harry Potter for a little while longer.

When we get up, it'll be weird, and, for now, everything can be right.

As right as it could be, at least.

And it's ok. I can't expect more than this, and I don't.

I just want him to hold me better.

Potter seems to read my mind, because his head hooks in that place between my shoulder and my neck.

He purrs like before.

I like it so bad when he does this sound, that I don't move.

Suddenly, I'm sleepy. I feel shame, because I know my tears are wetting his skin.

But whatever; I don't want to care.

Just for now. For this moment. While this can last. _And it's not much._


End file.
